Cheng Jing called Changli several times but received no response from Changli.
For Changli, he can go if he wants to, and he can't go if he doesn't want to.
And Cheng Jing didn't feel too disappointed.
It was very comfortable to live in an independent space there.
The next time Chang Li responded to Cheng Jing's call, Cheng Jing was practicing his sword.
He was practicing Yu Qingdao's sword skills with a sword that he had refined for more than ten years.
He danced the sword with great momentum, as if he was being carried by wind and thunder, and every move he made was full of fierce energy.
After Changli arrived, Cheng Jing did not stop.
He raised his sword and attacked Changli.
A wooden sword suddenly appeared in Changli's hand, and he fought with Cheng Jing.
Cheng Jing's sword power was like thunder falling from the sky, mighty and sharp, while Chang Li's sword power was like clouds in the sky, ethereal and traceless.
The two men were attacking and defending, and it seemed that Cheng Jing had the upper hand, but in reality, only he knew.
Every offensive point he made was guarded by that person, every movement was predicted by that person, and even every thought was predicted by that person.
It felt like he was trapped in that layer.
In the layered sea of clouds, one can only react passively and cannot take the initiative to attack.
Even in the face of such a predicament, Cheng Jing did not give up.
He continued to sword fight with Chang Li.
As each move followed, Cheng Jing slowly began to break away from Chang Li's guidance.
Attacking Changli with an inexplicable pattern.
Feeling the changes in Cheng Jing, Chang Li became slightly more focused, and the sword movement under his hand also became more ethereal.
The beautiful movements were like an antelope hanging its horns, leaving no trace of them.
But this beauty is accompanied by extreme danger, just like white snow covering the red plums.
If the red plums cannot hold up, the branches will be broken and the flowers will fall.
Cheng Jing was once again squirmed under Chang Li's hand.
There were some small scars on his body, and traces of blood overflowed from the scars.
Dense pain also followed, as if he had been eaten by thousands of ants. generally.
But Cheng Jing was not moved at all.
He continued to focus on the sword duel with Chang Li, unwilling to waste this rare opportunity.
Gradually, Cheng Jing felt as if he was trapped in that ethereal world, and everything else began to blur.
There was only the gorgeous sword light in front of him, and only the cold-looking figure behind the sword light.
His movements also became blurred, revealing a unique charm of Chang Li, and his sword dancing movements also revealed a sense of randomness and trance.
His mind seemed to be covered with a thin layer of white mist.
He was imprisoned in this white mist and could not control his body or his sword, but he could clearly feel his sword skills.
Whatever changes we go through, it's like looking at flowers in the mist.
The flowers are stained with the color of the mist, but the mist retains the charm of the flowers.
As the two of them continued to fight, Cheng Jing felt that the fog in front of him slowly faded away.
He tried to move his fingers, but there was a slight mistake in his fingers.
He didn't have time to feel this novel feeling.
Seeing a brilliant sword light in front of him, it turned out that Chang Li saw his mistake and stabbed him mercilessly.
At the moment of crisis, the mist in front of Cheng Jing's eyes quickly dissipated.
He took control of his body at an extraordinary speed and continued his previous sword moves without any hindrance, as if he had never I have never lost control of my body.
Chang Li's sword move was blocked, but he didn't take it seriously and continued to attack with his sword.
In the gap between the gorgeous sword light, Cheng Jing could clearly see the murderous intent in the man's eyes.
Maybe he would die by his hands if he wasn't careful.
This realization not only did not make Cheng Jing timid, but made him even more excited.
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That's it, that's it, this is what I want.
When he thought of this, the excitement in Cheng Jing's heart quickly cooled down as if being poured down by a basin of ice water.
Is this what I want?
Yes, this is really what I want.
I love this extremely dangerous sword move, I love this feeling of wandering at the critical moment of life and death, I love this excitement of burning life regardless of everything.
This realization suddenly made Cheng Jing sober up.
He practiced Taoism not for money and power, to slay demons, not for the path to immortality, but for the sparkle that could burn him.
He is such a reckless, indulgent and wanton seeker.
After understanding all this, the sword moves in Cheng Jing's hand changed again.
It is no longer the force of wind and thunder that is the same as that recorded in the Taoist tradition by Yu Qing, it is no longer an ethereal shape stained with the color of Changli, it is no longer a twisted sword move that combines reality and illusion, but It is the unbridled and arrogant sword intent that belongs exclusively to Cheng Jing.
The last barrier between the soul and the body was removed, and there was no longer any obstacle.
He felt that the sword in his hand became an extension of his arm.
A layer of transparent green light appeared on the sword.
The green light was like Kunpeng's wings.
With a single stroke, it could separate the vast sea water.
An unprecedented joy filled his heart, making him just want to laugh happily.
The sword in his hand seemed to be tainted with his joy, and he became eager to try.
The green light on the sword blade passed through the hem of Chang Li's clothes, leaving a small scratch on it.
Seeing this scene, Cheng Jing became even more excited, and there was a hint of urgency in the dance of the sword.
The sharp sword tip was sent forward, pointed directly at the center of Chang Li's eyebrows, and the sharp energy erupted, as if it was going to blind Chang Li's eyes.
Chang Li's pale face looked even more fragile under the reflection of the sword energy.
A flash of red light appeared in his clear eyes.
The red light became deeper and deeper, as if the souls of thousands of people had gathered together.
It's like essence and blood, with a strange and evil aura.
His movement speeded up suddenly, and he stepped back slightly to widen the distance between him and Cheng Jing.
Then he raised the sword in his hand and deflected Cheng Jing's sword edge.
Cheng Jing's figure was led to the right, but Chang Li's sword power remained unabated, pointing at Cheng Jing's eyebrows again.
The situation changed so quickly that people were caught off guard.
The wooden sword did not look threatening, and the blade had not yet been opened.
But Cheng Jing knew that if he let the sword hit him, the only outcome waiting for him would be death.
At this critical moment, Cheng Jing's eyes sharpened, and then he suddenly bent back, and the sword in his hand stabbed Chang Li's wrist in a strange way.
Chang Li avoided Cheng Jing's sword with a flick of his wrist.
The tip of the sword then bent downwards and pointed directly at Cheng Jing's heart.
When the tip of the sword was only a fraction away from Cheng Jing's clothes, a resistance suddenly came from the space, preventing Chang Li from continuing to stab downward.
Chang Li raised his hand slightly, then retracted his sword move.
The wooden sword in his hand turned into dust and disappeared
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